


Vessels and Vials

by mariuspondmercy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, Other, look i didn't know how to tag Jehanparnasse because Jehan is non-binary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 03:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9801068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariuspondmercy/pseuds/mariuspondmercy
Summary: Negative emotions can be extracted and trapped in glass bottles - and Montparnasse really is in need, as the king just died, leaving him to succeed. He seeks out Jehan, a glass blower and extractor, to make sense of his emotions.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Opium_du_Peuple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opium_du_Peuple/gifts).



> A very happy birthday to my darling Elise, who is a sunshine child and blesses this fandom with her positive influence ♥

With the hood of his cloak drawn deep over his face, Montparnasse made his way through the shadows of the Parisian streets. It was important to get through the city and to the outskirts unnoticed. At the gates of Paris, potters, blacksmiths and glassblowers had their quarters – too high was the risk of fire within the confined walls of France’s capital. A single spark out of the ordinary and the entire city could go up in flames.

He was nervous, of course. Sure, extracting negative emotions via magic was a fairly common procedure. Most people who could afford it did it. The bigger the emotion, the more expensive it was. The worse the emotion, the bigger the extraction, the small ghost-like shape. And the bigger the extraction, the bigger the flask it had to be kept in.

Montparnasse had had negative emotions extracted a lot of times already. It had been jealousy, back then, three years ago. Jealousy, that his friends could go on about their lives while he had been forced into a marriage. His foster-father, Thénardier, had acquired the throne of the region Île-de-France in his early 20s – no one really knows, how he did it. After the death of Montparnasse’s father, Thénardier had taken him in, raised him as his own – better than his own, actually. He’d been the son he’s never had. So, when Thénardier’s oldest daughter – and heir to the throne – had come off age, marrying her and Montparnasse had been the most natural thing. Éponine and Montparnasse had been best friends anyway, it only made sense. But while Éponine was quite keen on women, Montparnasse had never been all too interested in them. During their wedding night, they had actually gone and gotten emotions extracted – in secret, Thénardier could never know about that. Ever since, their marriage had been quite a happy one; frustration was just extracted monthly.

But now, oh, now Montparnasse really needed a big vial. For months now, Thénardier had been sick, plagued by aches and pains. Rumour had it that his wife was slowly poisoning him – Éponine denied such claims made about her mother. She’d always been devoted to her husband; and what would she gain from his death? Not even the throne, because the law stated that the widow or widower of a deceased royal could not take over their place. After spouses all over France had been poisoned, assassinated, fallen prey to hungry wolves, the kings of France’s regions had unanimously decided to implement the rule. After Thénardier’s passing just this morning and before word had gotten out to his citizens, Éponine and Montparnasse had learned that their fates were sealed. Queen and King. There was no hope left of leaving this marriage. Not now, not ever. Of course, divorce was not unheard of, but heavily frowned upon, especially in concerns to the royal couple. If they couldn’t even keep their marriage together, how were they to fare with the entire kingdom?

He hadn’t even told Éponine he was going to do it. Get all the bitterness, all the hurt, all the pain, all the anger, all the rage and disappointment out of his body. She’d stop him, because part of her believed in addressing feelings. Nice in theory, yet it had never worked in practice.

Just after the doctor had declared the death of Thénardier, Montparnasse had slipped out of the castle. He knew any and every vial maker, so he chose the one the furthest away from home. Well, not exactly. There was one further away but this one now had the reputation to make very intricate flasks, perfect for storing everything Montparnasse was feeling.

Carefully, he pushed open the door to the glass blower’s hut and slipped in as quietly as possible. Montparnasse observed the man for a few moments, the long hair tied up, sweat from the heat caused by the fire dripping down his neck.

“Excuse me?” Montparnasse broke the silence – which wasn’t a silence at all, as the hut was busy with roaring fire and crackling coals.

“Yes?” The glass blower turned around and tucked back a strand of red hair. “How may I help you? Ah, let me guess? A vessel for… unrequited love?”

Montparnasse snorted. “My love has never been unrequited. It is not your job to guess a client’s wish but to fulfil it.”

“I could fulfil the wish if you were to tell me. Oh, and the hood?” He gestured vaguely in Montparnasse’s direction. “Has to go. I don’t do shady business with people whose faces I cannot see.”

His face was stony, unmoving. As if he were prepared to deny Montparnasse any business should he not oblige. Hesitating a little, Montparnasse took off his hood. He hadn’t planned on doing that; too big the fear of being recognised and shunned, maybe even blackmailed. But with this, Montparnasse hadn’t trusted the court’s glass blower.

“I was referred to you by a friend of mine, Babet. He said you could be trusted.”

At that, the expression softened, a gentle smile playing on the full lips.

“How is Babet? Are you very familiar?”

“He is one of my closest acquaintances.”

“How close?” He narrowed his eyes, obviously scanning Montparnasse. What was he trying to achieve here? Montparnasse grew very uncomfortable.

“Am I being interrogated?” He smirked lightly, not letting the examination get to him. He could do cocky, he could do self-assured. It was easy. Growing up the heir and foster-son of the king, Montparnasse had learned early on to conceal his thoughts and feelings. The world had no right to his heart.

“Never. I am a mere glass blower, not a police officer.”

“But you’re also an extractor, right? Babet would not have come to you otherwise. Not with such an immense negative feeling.”

The redhead hummed and grabbed a glass vase close by to polish it with the hem of his apron. “How are his children?”

“They’re fine. The twins turn two years old soon. Both can walk really well by now and the little one is starting to speak. It was good that he trapped his negative emotions about… about the…”

“The pregnancy, yes. We handled his emotions. There was a lot of pain and fear. So much uncertainty, concerning his friends, too.”

“We had long talks. Claquesous was on the fence at first, but came around soon after Babet told us.”

“Mhm, he said you’re all a tight-knit group. Now, to you. Why are you here? What do you need? How can I help? Wait.” He placed the glass aside again, wiped his hands on the apron and held one out to Montparnasse. “Jean Prouvaire, certified glass blower, uncertified extractor. Quick, quiet, helpful, just the person you were looking for. Call me Jehan, don’t call me a man.”

Despite himself, Montparnasse smiled softly and shook his – their?-  hand. “So it’s… what?”

“It’s they and them, please. Can you respect that?”

“Absolutely.” Montparnasse squeezed their hand. “Montparnasse, heir to the throne. Or rather… on the throne.”

“Oh… So Thénardier…?”

“Yes,” Montparnasse sighed.

“A horrible tyrant. But I am sorry for your loss. Is that what you want extracted? The grief?” They let go off his hand and gestured towards a small back room. “Let us go there to talk. I need to know the exact size of the extraction to make your bottle.”

Montparnasse nodded lightly and followed Jehan into the other room. He was nervous, but Babet had trusted them, so Montparnasse would, too. Of course, he was careful – you never knew, after all. He knew that talks about the emotions were not unusual in order to determine the right vessel but Montparnasse also knew that not every glass blower actually cared. But was that something he wanted? Did he really want to talk about it the way he talked to his extractor? Would he, in the end, listen to Babet and place his trust in Jehan? His mind raced, jumped over hurdles, chased and stumbled. What about Éponine? What about the royal duties? Montparnasse was lost in his thoughts, startling awake when Jehan placed a mug of steaming mint tea in front of him.

“There’s just a lot going on,” Montparnasse confessed softly after a long silence.

“Then we’re starting small. What are the emotions you want extracted? Grief? Anger? Your foster-father passed away and left you not only a grieving wife but also a big responsibility and many enemies. People like me, people who are different, we aren’t happy with Thénardier. When word gets out that he passed away, there will be celebrations, maybe even uprisings. We will assume you are the same.”

“That is not true. Not after… after Babet. Éponine and I, we want to do better. We’re good friends, we’re in synch.”

Jehan nodded softly. “I see.”

The air with which Jehan breathed those words implied more than a simple acknowledgement of Montparnasse’s marriage. They both knew, evidently.

“Which emotions?”

“I want to get rid of the guilt, the fear, the anger, the grief,” Montparnasse said, voice unwavering.

He was certain. Yes, those were the emotions he needed to lose. Sometimes, he knew as much, people less skilled in deducing themselves accidentally had the wrong emotions extracted. Some left as mere shells of themselves. No, you had to be certain the emotions you wanted extracted were the ones you should be getting extracted.

“Do they come from the head or the heart?” Jehan further inquired.

“Uhm… I don’t know? What’s the difference anyway?”

“You see,” Jehan smiled softly, placing a hand on Montparnasse’s arm, “if there is fear in your head, it’ll be a different fear than in your heart. The one in your head has to go but the one in your heart has to stay.”

“That’s bullshit. You cannot possible distinguish between the two when it gets extracted.”

“Maybe your court extractor can’t, but I definitely can. When will your crowning be?”

“After the announcement of his death there will be a month-long mourning period. We will be crowned at the end of that period.”

Jehan nodded thoughtfully. “I am sending you home now. Be with your wife, your friends. Think of where the emotions are coming from, head or heart. I want you to come back in three days. By then, I will have a sketch for your vessel ready.”

“How? You haven’t even…”

Softly, Jehan shushed him with a gesture of their hand. “You have to trust me fully. That means, you do not question my methods. Not in regards to glass blowing. Off you pop now, I have other customers to attend to. Cannot make an exception for the crown prince of Île-de-France.”

The last bit was accompanied by what Montparnasse would describe as a devilish smirk. Sure, he might not trust them entirely just yet – maybe never would – but his gut-feeling told him that Jehan would treat him and his emotions very well. It was such an intimate and personal business, extracting emotions, Montparnasse was glad to have found someone who seemed good at what they did. Even if they were uncertified. It meant nothing.

After the news of Thénardier’s death were proclaimed, Éponine and Montparnasse barely had a minute to themselves. They were briefed, courted, urged on, questioned, had to give speech after speech. Yet Montparnasse always managed to slip away to Jehan’s place during the night. They talked about his emotions, the turmoil within.

The fear, Montparnasse had realised, came from the heart. The grief, however, was entirely a head-emotion. He grieved Thénardier because it was expected of him, not because he had really deeply loved him and mourned his loss. Yes, when he was a boy, Thénardier had been the best father anyone could’ve wished for – especially a former street-kid. It had led to a certain devotion, dependency, debt. Montparnasse knew he was forever in Thénardier’s debt and Thénardier had made sure Montparnasse never forgot. Talking to Jehan, someone who hasn’t lived with Thénardier – unlike Éponine, Claquesous, Babet and Gueulemer – helped him sort his head-emotions quite well. Since the mourning was only in his mind, there was no pain attached to it – it was easy to let go off. The fear, however, was deep in his bones. What if the people assumed he and Éponine would carry on as Thénardier had? What if someone wanted revenge, saw their chance to change their Paris? What if someone would hurt Éponine? He could hardly bear those thoughts.

The morning of the coronation, Montparnasse had once again managed to escape his golden cage. Éponine knew, by now. She supported him, made sure he wasn’t caught. Silently, he slipped through the shadows vanishing in the rising morning sun, quickly through the streets of Paris. Preparations for the coronation were already buzzing in the streets; more people were out and about than Montparnasse had assumed. While it made staying undetected harder, it wasn’t impossible, not for him.

Jehan didn’t expect him, so they were quite startled when Montparnasse suddenly appeared in their doorstep at the crack of dawn. They had, apparently, just gotten up, judging by the state they were in. Montparnasse couldn’t help the small smile appearing on his lips.

“Good morning,” Montparnasse grinned.

“I didn’t expect you,” was Jehan’s reply. Still, they already moved towards the stove to place a kettle on it.

“I know. I just… it’s the coronation. I want some emotions extracted. I do.”

“Just like when you came here over a month ago? Are you certain?”

“Yes. I… I am not very certain but it has to be done. I need the confusion gone because it’s making it complicated. I have accepted the fear and I will heed your words and address it in my speech today. I will not repeat Thénardier’s mistakes. Éponine and I, we will do right by our people.”

Jehan smiled softly and handed him a cup of steaming tea. “I believe you will. About the confusion. You have never talked of it before.”

“Because it had never occurred before. I want you there at court yet I know you do not want it. I have come to trust you, Jehan. Something that seldom happens, especially in such short a time. I would like for you to become the court’s official glass blower and extractor. But I know the wish is futile. I know the confusion is in my head, overshadowing the true emotion. I know it is something distracting because I woke up this morning having forgotten all about the coronation, just thinking of our last talk. I cannot have this confusion in me. I want you to take it away.”

With a slight frown, Jehan nodded. “I will heed your wish as you heed my words. Drink your tea, get comfortable. I’m getting a vessel. Medium-size?”

“Medium-size, yes.” Montparnasse leaned back on Jehan’s sofa and closed his eyes for a few moments. It would be good, with the confusion gone. He could go back to normal, back to seeing things clearly. Back to leading his region. The thought let a shiver run down his back.

“Okay?” Jehan softly placed their hand on Montparnasse’s shoulder, voice laced with concern.

“Yes. I am ready. Where do you want me?”

To his surprise, Jehan blushed softly before composing themselves again and directing Montparnasse over to the chaise lounge they had in their conservatory. Surrounded by flowers and glass bottles of all shapes and sizes, Montparnasse tried to relax.

“Will this be adequate?” Jehan showed him a bulbous bottle tinted in a matte black.

“Yes, thank you.”

Jehan sat down on a chair next to him, taking his hand. With his wand softly gliding over Montparnasse’s arm and chest, they mumbled careful words. Slowly, a white shape started to form above Montparnasse’s chest. The small ball grew until it was the size of an apple. Quickly, Jehan grabbed the bottle to trap the emotion inside of it.

“Here we go. It’s all good. The confusion should be gone from your head. How are you feeling?”

Montparnasse sat up and took a few deep breaths before looking over at Jehan. Sleep-rumbled, concern etched between their brows, long red hair sloppily tied up. The risen sun cast a tender light around Jehan; they were truly illuminated.

“The confusion is gone but now the heart wants you even more at court.”

Jehan smiled sadly. “You know I cannot do that. It is not my place, I do not believe in serving only a few privileged instead of the masses.”

“I know. Thank you, my friend, for still accepting me.”

“I will always accept you.” Jehan squeezed Montparnasse’s hand and got up. “You should get back to court before someone misses you. Shall I keep your confusion safe until you can collect it in a less hectic moment?”

“Please do.” With a last, small smile, Montparnasse got up as well and soon left the lodgings.

The plan for their speech manifested itself more and more the closer Montparnasse and Éponine got to the coronation. It was an ordeal to sit through everything. Exhausted, tired and anxious, Montparnasse and Éponine held hands throughout the entire ceremony. A show of love for the outside, a sign of pure friendship on the inside. Afterwards, they were taken back to the castle, where they would give their speech to the public. Masses had already accumulated in front of the balcony, as far as Montparnasse could see. Despite himself, he hoped to spot a familiar redhead in the crowds. Maybe they weren’t there, maybe they were hidden.

“Our first order of business,” Éponine began the speech, “is to thank you all for coming. We are pleased to be blessed with such a devoted region. I am sure some travelled far and wide to reach us today. If you have proof of these travels, please show them to our staff afterwards, you will be granted a small packed lunch for your safe travels home.”

There was a murmuring in the crowd; some cheers, some disgruntled exclamations.

“Secondly,” Éponine continued, “we would like to let you know that we, as your king and queen, will forever rule as one. We are one, we are yours. As of today, we will open our castle every morning to the public, should there be complaints, wishes or advices. We want to rule with your, not over you.”

“Furthermore,” Montparnasse spoke up, “we are abolishing gender marks on birth certificates. It has come to our attention that not every person is comfortable with them. From now on, you can ask your local church to issue you a new paper, should you wish so.”

He thought of Babet, who could finally abolish the dreaded F on it. Of Jehan, who could get rid of the M. Surely there must be more people who were glad about it. Montparnasse knew about the community forming under Thénardier; he wanted to give them a voice, somehow.

After further announcements, Éponine and Montparnasse drew back into the castle. It had gone just as expected: the public was shocked. So many changes, so many new laws or old laws abolished. They knew they had made powerful enemies but both their consciences couldn’t continue ruling as Thénardier had. Their father, who had put them through unimaginable hardship.

Changed into his normal attire, Montparnasse met with Éponine for dinner.

“It was a good decision to not tell them about the divorce,” she said as she passed him the salt. “This was they will see us as rulers first before we decide to take on new spouses – should we decide so.”

Montparnasse nodded. “It was also good to not tell them that, in case neither of us should produce an heir, Babet’s children will inherit the throne.”

“Imagine the uproar,” Éponine laughed gleefully. “But they will come around. The public always adjusts to changes. We will guide them towards the light which had been hidden from us for so long.”

Montparnasse softly squeezed her hand. “We will.”

A knock on the door let them both look up. When Babet entered, Montparnasse furrowed his brows.

“Can we help?”

“There is a visitor for you,” Babet said. “It’s… a friend of ours.”

“She knows, you can speak freely,” Montparnasse prompted Babet.

“Jehan is here to see you. I do not know how they got past the guards but they’re here, demanding to speak to you.”

“Go on.” Éponine softly nudged Montparnasse. “Babet, I expect you and the children will join for dinner? We cannot possible let this all go to waste. Call upon Gueulemer and Claquesous as well. Celebrations are in order.”

Montparnasse shot her a thankful glance before leaving the room to meet Jehan in his own quarters. He found them on the balcony, overlooking the vast gardens of the castle, tinged red in the setting sun.

“Éponine and I are divorcing,” was the first sentence leaving his lips. He did know why, now that the confusion was gone. He did know, and he needed Jehan to know. “We will not make it public yet. Maybe not for years. Not until we are settled, each with their own life and love.”

“And the public will understand?” Jehan asked carefully.

“The public will have to understand.” Montparnasse joined them on the balcony. “Have you thought about my offer? Relocating to court?”

“I heard your speech,” Jehan said instead. “It was powerful, moving. I have friends who would like to give you some guidance, if you let them.”

“They can come tomorrow morning, just like everyone else. Cannot make an exception for the friends of… of a love,” Montparnasse repeated Jehan’s own words from a month ago.

“It’s all very fast,” Jehan remarked, still looking over the blossoming flowers instead at Montparnasse.

“Indeed. Does it bother you?”

“A little.”

“Will you still accept?”

“Will I have my workshop here to serve the public? Will I be confined to the castle?”

“You are free to move and help who you seem fit. I was thinking…” Montparnasse slowly raised his hand to point out a small, abandoned shed in the far-off distance. “This could be your new work shed? I can have it renovated.”

“I’d rather renovate it myself, thank you. I expect the king to help me?”

They turned towards Montparnasse, gaze burning into him. The question, Montparnasse knew, was of utmost importance. It implied too much.

“The king will help once the day is over and the public is helped as best as possible,” he replied cautiously.

Montparnasse was rewarded with a bright smile. Suddenly, Jehan clasped his hands in theirs and lifted them up to touch them softly with his lips.

“Then I will gladly accept my new workstation amidst the flowers.”


End file.
